


Frat Men

by hellosweetie



Category: Mad Men
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2013-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-06 01:46:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1100962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellosweetie/pseuds/hellosweetie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joanie and Bob go to a frat party. Ill-advised flirting and whiskey to follow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Frat Men

**Author's Note:**

  * For [firstaudrina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/firstaudrina/gifts).



> Well, I was trying to write a ~*srius fic*~ for Yuletide, but this image of Joan and Bob at a small liberal arts college frat party wouldn't get out of my brain. So here is a goofy little offering for Yuletide Madness!

It was at the end of reading week, just before everyone decided to momentarily pause drinking their faces off in order to study for finals, that Joan found herself at a frat party for the first time since freshman year. It was most assuredly not her preferred scene- her Frye boots were sticking to the concrete floor, and she was sweating right through her jeweled cardigan. But somehow her housemate and BFF Bob Benson had convinced her to brave the cold December night with him in search of a steaming basement and lukewarm beer.

"Ohmygod, he's here." Bob grasped her arm. "Over there by the stairs! Look! Okay but don't look like _right_ now--I'll look, then you look--but don't make it so he thinks we're staring at him! Ohmygod."

"Bob, really? Peter Campbell?"

"Yes!"

"Peter 'the library is named after my grandparents so I can do whatever I want' Campbell? Preys on naive freshmen girls? THAT Pete Campbell?"

"You mean, Peter 'definitely wants to eyefuck me from across the room' Campbell."

"Bob. That boy is seriously straight and this obsession is not healthy for you."

"Um, are we looking at the same guy? Dapper bow tie and perfectly coordinated yet effortless pattern mixing?"

"Oh honey, I told you. It's that northeastern prep school thing. He's not gay, he's just from Westchester."

"Whatever. I'm gonna go get him to make me a drink."

"No! You can't just abandon--" But before she could finish the sentence, he was out of earshot and on his way to flirt with the extremely conceited and, okay, _questionably_ straight Peter Campbell.

 _Great. Glad I came. Definitely not a waste of makeup,_ she thought. _Well, might as well find where they keep the good whiskey on my way out._

Joan squeezed her way upstairs, where it was still unbearably hot. She was forced to remove her cardigan, and the tank top underneath revealed slightly more décolletage than she'd planned. _Eh...when in Rome,_ she thought, as a pair of twiggy underclassmen in push-up bras glared in envy. She maneuvered her way to the kitchen and was poking in a few promising-looking cabinets, when she was startled by a cool voice in her ear.

"Trying to find where we keep the good whiskey on your way out?"

She whirled around. It was a tall, dark haired boy who looked very familiar, but she couldn't quite place him. Conventionally good-looking, but with an intense look in his eyes that made her feel like she was in on the joke. Whatever the joke was.

"Guilty as charged," she smirked, challenging him to do something about it.

"The best stuff is upstairs...in my room."

"I'm sure it is. Good night." She turned to go.

"Oh come on, it was a joke."

"I'm curious, does that actually work on girls?"

"Not on any of the smart ones. You're...Joan, right? Midcentury American Lit? I'm Don Draper."

"Ah, yes." She placed him instantly, seeing him in the back of the drafty, high-ceilinged classroom. "You're the one who comes in late, sits in the corner, and then stuns us all with some scathing insight a second before class ends."

"I suppose that would be me," he said with a sly look that he clearly thought was charming.

"You're kind of an asshole."

"You're kind of perceptive." He half smiled, half laughed, and as she met his eye she couldn't help but smile back.

"Listen, about that whiskey..."

"...the whiskey conveniently located right next to your bed?"

"No, it's just over...here." He tipped an old-fashioned coffee can off the top of the cabinet, opening it to reveal a slim bottle of Wild Turkey. "Don't go drinking it all in one place," he said, handing it to her.

"Oh, I don't need the whole--" she started to protest.

He pressed it into her hands. "Well then, you'll just have to bring the rest back for us to share next time."

"Next time...hmmm..." She slipped the bottle into her cleavage and buttoned her cardigan back up. "We'll have to see about that." She leaned against the door frame, twisting the knob behind her back.

He leaned over her. "You get home safe, now."

"Good night, Mr. Draper."

"See you around."

And with that, she slipped off into the night.


End file.
